


A Husband's Duty

by MissIves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, dunno I TRIED OK? it's not my forte, it's actually quite vanilla but not really, there be p0rn in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIves/pseuds/MissIves
Summary: Arya Stark arrives home to her husband ready to finish as fight.





	A Husband's Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse any typos or mistakes, English is not my first language.

“I need you to send these to Dragonstone, please.”

 

Arya still had her riding boots on when she arrived to the maester’s quarters.

 

The maester smiled at her state, disheveled, all her attire wrinkled and worn out. She had ridden hard to get back home in time, and Hornwood awaited her as it always did, with her children wreaking havoc. Arya remembered being underfoot and perhaps a bit disobedient but she was sure she was never quite so destructive. Being a mother was as much about loving and teaching as it was about discipline, and somehow no sooner had her boys reached the ages of six and four respectively that she began doing a lot more of the latter. She had just sent them back to their own beds, and ordered Nymeria to make sure they stayed there until they were told to go break their fast.

 

“Will my lady care for some wine?” It was way too early for anyone to drink yet the old maester did not mind some mischief.

 

“Gods, yes.” Arya plumped on the chair across from him as he called his birds and did his work. Willam was old and wrinkled but he still had vigor in him. He procured wine and two cups with surprising speed.

 

“I take it your time in Winterfell went well?”

 

“As good as expected. Winter is coming and all that.”

 

Willam chuckled at her words. It was a phrase Gendry used when she was over worrying - according to him anyways -, as if he wasn’t a master at overthinking everything. In time, it became a common phrase between the three of them whenever they discussed what happened in her common trips to Winterfell. Counseling Bran was much harder than managing a castle, and she could not deny sometimes she took her worries too deep at heart.

 

_Just now, I’ve come straight here instead of going to Gendry._

 

Truth was she wanted to see him very badly, but they had quarrelled before she left and she dreaded the idea that he was still pissed at her cowardice. Said cowardice being her leaving the morning after a fight without a simple goodbye. Fear truly cut deeper than swords, it seemed.

 

Still, she missed him, and after two moons, her body yearned for him. Her legs missed the ache of their lovemaking, her cheeks missed the scratch of his stubble, her body missed his arms around her. Even her ears missed his voice. Seven hells, she even missed their fighting. After all, if her calculations were not wrong, Jon and Brandon had both been conceived in nights were they had chosen to continue their fights inside the bed.

 

“Thanks for the wine, Willem.” She said as she finished her drink and stood up to leave. The maester hadn't said anything. He had always been more for silent stoic support, even as he had to deal with two young people with no experience and married for convenience. Somehow, that was the best support they could ever receive.

 

As she went up to her chambers, she mulled over Bran’s words… _“He will need to be prepared. You must be prepared”_ , he had warned, _“I won’t be here forever”_. Arya had taken his hand then, and squeezed it and kissed it, unable to think of losing more people.

 

But his words were true. She would have to prepare all her family for the wars to come. Their generation, the generation that ruled now, appreciated peace and unification after so much pain, war and a harsh winter. But her children would grow to see it differently. The North was already independent, and secession was not a foreign thought to the Riverlands or Dorne. Jon and Daenerys unified the kingdom, but when they were gone, what then? A voice deep from her time in the House of Black and White answered her: _empires fall, and we do not mind getting rid of the dragons_.

 

Gendry himself had been married to her because he was the only son of Robert Baratheon that Varys could locate and identify, and they wanted him up in the North. Mya, it seemed, posed no threat. Arya would laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew men were shit. They had doubted Daenerys and had been elited when Jon turned out to be a son of Rhaegar. They wouldn’t crown a daughter of Robert when a son existed, even moreso when that son was a war hero.

 

 _But he’s a Stark now_ , she thought with a smile. _And he is mine_. In the end, the idea of marriage she so dreaded had brought her more freedoms that she had expected. _At least no one frowns now if I touch Gendry in public_. And of course, if Gendry bedded her enough for her to pop out a child each year no one would be less than happy. Though she hoped that wouldn’t be the case. Arya enjoyed motherhood alright, but she also enjoyed her own adventures.

 

She smiled as she remembered her stubbornness to the idea of their marriage, complete with her stomping her foot and yelling at Jon.

 

“I know you hate the idea of a marriage of convenience,” he had begun, “but isn’t it _convenient_ that you already love each other?”

 

He had resisted the urge to smile at his own wittiness, and then he had hugged her and kissed her frown. Jon had promised she wouldn’t have to do it if she truly didn’t wanted to, but he only asked that she thought it over. And if Jon asked, Arya would do it.

 

Gendry had sulked a good couple minutes when he had been told he would be legitimized and married off. He had stubbornly insisted that he did not want to marry any fancy southron lady until Arya told him he’d marry a northern princess. Then he was all smiles and happiness for exactly as long it took for her to explain Jon needed her to marry him. Then Gendry had sulked a good three days about her ‘only doing it for Jon’s sake’ until she threatened that if he continued being stupid he’d have as much sex in their married lives as if he had taken the black.

 

Arya bit her lip as she faced their door. Years of training and fighting and here she was, nervous of a man. _Not any man_ , she thought, _Gendry_. There was a time she wasn’t nervous around him. As a child, sure and then when they met again too. They were older and neither blushed nor stumbled with their words, nor that she remembered. She was focused on so many more important things then, justice for her family, taking her home back, protect themselves from their enemies, the war against the Night’s King.

 

She closed her eyes as she remembered that moment before the battle. Arya had her role clear to her: protect Bran. The Night’s King would come to him, should he win or if he saw he was being defeated, he’d come for Bran but Bran needed to be connected to the old Gods, to the dragons, he needed to fly. Gendry had his role too, in the battlefield. Arya remembered him running to her for a goodbye, and Arya mumbling something about him not doing something stupid, and _‘we’ve survived so much, you and I, we will live through this’_ and then… his arm had sneaked around her waist. And before she could do anything she was flush against him and he had kissed her as if his life depended on it. And she had kissed him back.

 

It had been inexperienced and clumsy. And for the first time in her life Arya understood the meaning of the world ‘breathless’. She did not even know when her own hands had gone up to his shoulders but she sure felt the way his free hand came up to rest behind her neck. It was the warmest thing she had felt during that entire winter, his hand against her skin. And before she could even gather her thoughts his lips were gone, his blue eyes so dark she got lost in them and nearly missed the way he whispered ‘I love you’ before he was gone. Gone, just like that.

 

And then the battle was done for, victory giving them both much more courage than alcohol ever would. His forge was warm and private, but Arya was sure nothing was warmer than their bodies when they were joined that first time, so entranced in each other not even air got between them.

 

When she opened the door, she saw the same Gendry she had seen when she woken up in the forge after their first time. Asleep with his left arm up above his head, shirtless and snoring softly. She smiled at the memory of that first morning together. Arya had hit his arm with enough force to leave a red mark, and when Gendry had woken up ( _Seven hells! What you hitting me for, Arya?_ ) she had berated him for leaving her like that after confessing _that_ just like it was nothing. He has shushed her with kisses even though he had not complained of her loudness during the night.

 

Now Arya was ever so quiet, easy as it was for her to be stealthy and mysterious. Gendry would call it creepy and repeat that it would eventually give their future teenage sons more than one awkward scare. She approached him silently and observed the rise and fall of his chest. He was so strong, her husband, even sleeping you could tell how strong he was. And he looked so peaceful, in their bed, his right arm somewhat extended to her side of the bed.

 

She sat next to Gendry and he began to move, clearly about to wake up. She ran her fingers through his black hair before the peace was disrupted. He smiled lazily, eyes still closed. _That smile is mine_ , she thought to herself, _it’s mornings when no children nor duties compel them to leave the bed or nights with only the fireplace light illuminating them as they talked the time away_.

 

“Arya,” his deep voice shook her out of her thoughts, his hand going up to take her fingers in his, “what are you smiling about.”

 

Arya looked away, somewhat dawning on her that now truly they’d have to end their stupid fight. “Nothing.”

 

“Sure,” he said smiling with his lips but not his eyes, “keeping me off the reasons to smile, just what we need.”

 

“Gendry,” she closed her eyes in frustration, “I just got back, can we not?”

 

“All I asked was a question!” He began to sit up, his hand letting go off hers. His eyes brimmed with anger but she could tell by his tone of voice he was not at his angriest. Truth being told, he had never been at his angriest  when it came to her. Frustrated, pissed, reproachful, mild anger, sure. But he had always mostly smiled when around her and it was perhaps by this very reason that she had up and left their previous fight. “Or aside from keeping me out of your decisions on our children you now have decided I am not worth asking what makes my wife smile?”

 

“Isn’t it your duty to make me smile?” She snapped at him, stubborn and defiant. Gendry opened his mouth to retort, but Arya knew she’d have the last word by being honest. “I was thinking about you, and how I liked how you looked asleep, if you _must_ know!”

 

Arya tried to keep her concrete expression even as she blushed. She stood up and went to look for her nightgown.

 

“Arya.” He called out as she began to undress. “We’re not doing _that_. It wouldn’t fix anything.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She said as she put on the shirt he had let discarded. It was long and loose enough to sleep in it. “I rode all through the night to get here and find that even at the crack of dawn our children cause more havoc than ironborn and white walkers put together. “Thanks for asking me how my two moon absence went, by the way.”

 

Arya turned to find him raising an eyebrow, all serious. “You know I missed you.”

 

She couldn’t say anything to that, only sigh and drop her clothes in a corner as she walked to the bed. “Can we just… postpone this fight until morning?”

 

Gendry didn’t say anything as he watched her walk so intensely she was sure he could take off the garment off her by the sheer power of his look. _If only_ , she thought, _it would be so much sweeter to fight with actions rather than words_. He shrugged as she joined him in the bed. “So long as I don’t wake up to you challenging me to a duel.”

 

 _That wasn’t the kind of fight I was picturing_. She kept that thought to herself, however. “I could beat you.”

 

She sat there looking at him rather awkwardly. Usually her arrivals from a trip to Winterfell went… much more passionately. Gendry smiled. “Only in a swordfight.” He launched at her, catching her by surprise and Arya found herself trapped underneath him, his body halfway on top as he extended his arms. It made his muscles look much bigger and imposing. He smirked as he looked down at the deep neckline of his - far too large - shirt on her. “Give me a hammer and I bet I can take you”.

 

 _Oh now he’s just asking to be slapped_. Arya could ignore the itch between her legs if it meant settling this long debated argument. “What if I poison my blade? What if I distract you by showing skin? What if I come at you before the duel starts?” _I am a trained assassin you idiot, I would win!_

 

“What if I distract you?” He asked and Arya was about to question how would he even think he could distract her when he did precisely that by beginning a trail of kisses from her cheek, down her neck and deeper until he reached the neckline. Arya’s own hands ran greedily up his back, feeling his hard muscles under her fingers, smelling his distinctive scent of home. “Arya?” he murmured against her skin, the feeling of his breath making her ache.

 

“Mmmhh?” She had her eyes closed, just feeling him on top of her and preparing herself for,  what seven years of marriage had taught her, would be a really good fu-

 

“I’ve forgiven you.”

 

_What in seven buggering hells?_

 

“You’ve forgiven me.” She repeated, frozen and eyes closed. Arya opened them to find he had definitely noticed her change of mood. “You’ve forgiven me?”

 

“Yes…” he answered unsure, putting some space between them.

 

“We’re having this fight now.” She said as she pushed him off her. Gendry groaned and threw his head back as she sat up and promptly looked at him. “Listen, I understand I should’ve phrased it all better but-”

 

“You think phrasing it better would’ve helped me take the news happily?” He looked as if it pained him to think, so he closed his eyes and his fingers went to pinch his nose. “You know what, I think I’m still angry.”

 

“If only you’d let me finish!” Arya’s heart began to beat rapidly as she looked down at him. Gendry clearly noticed that for the first time in their life he was forced to look up, so he sat up too.

 

“To hear what? That Bran asked you for one of our sons? It was already difficult to compete to Jon, you know?” He shaked his head as he muttered under his breath “I bet not keep praying for a daughter, else you would give her to him as well.”

 

“What in Seven Hells is that suppose to mean?!” Arya nearly roared, pissed off that he had to bring up something that had nothing to do with the discussion at all, which he always did. Somehow, whenever they quarrelled they always ended up fighting on three different subjects in one fight all thanks to him.

 

“Why don’t you ask Sansa?” Gendry snapped at her, looking nearly triumphant as if he understood something she didn’t. “Ask her how much she enjoys the way Theon kisses the ground Asha walks on.”

 

Arya closed her eyes and let out a laugh as she shaked her head. She couldn’t imagine Sansa ever feeling any sort of inferiority to a woman like Asha. “You’re a bloody idiot. This has nothing to do with Jon.”

 

“You’re right, this is about how Rickon doesn’t want to be lord, so when Bran asks you for a son you just give him one.” Gendry closed his arms, and damn him, it only made her focus on his muscles again. His hair was still a mess and his eyes shone like ice, brimming with anger.

 

Arya bit her lip. She felt so tense, ready to lash out. Instead she breathed deeply, trying to remember she was a woman now, no longer a little girl who didn’t know how to deal with her emotions. “Are you going to let me finish?”

 

It came out a lot more snappy than she intended, but Gendry seemed to get the message that she wanted a civilized conversation. He laid back against the wall, looking at her expectantly.

 

Somehow, Arya didn’t exactly know how to phrase what she wanted to say.

 

“You’re right,” she began, but upon seeing Gendry’s shock she decided to change her words, “no, you’re just, partially right.” She took a deep breath, fighting her damned stubbornness. “I… should’ve discussed it first with you.”

 

 _Gods, how am I to tell him next?_ Arya felt suddenly drained of force. Nothing she ever trained for had prepared her for this, and she was so scared of how Gendry would react.

 

“Yes, you should’ve.” He repeated, but he softened once he saw her distress. His warm hand went to cup her face and then rest on her neck. It was very warm. Once he saw she was in no mood for being snappy and combative, his other hand went to her arm, down to her waist, pulling at her. “C’mon what is it? I’m listening.”

 

“It’s not that Rickon doesn’t want to be a lord…” Arya closed her eyes, her thoughts confusing her, “well, I mean, no he doesn’t want to be a lord but he would be if it were his duty as a Stark.”

 

“Doing one’s duty isn’t always so bad...” he began, giving her a softer look, trying to make her smile. He succeeded. “Isn’t it?”

 

“No…” Arya took his hand from her neck and just held it, looking down. “The thing is, he will be the lord of Winterfell, but he will never father a son or marry, and he will need an heir.”

 

“I don’t understand… the way you phrased it, I thought Bran wanted Jon so he could be his heir.” Arya shook her head silently. “Why will Rickon never marry and father children?”

 

Arya took a deep breath, looking at him and raising her eyebrows. “I guess… because I caught him with Wedrick Snow in the Godswood.”

 

Gendry was silent for a good time, then he looked in pain again, and then he frowned. “Oh.”

 

“Yes,” Arya shrugged. “Our marriage was extremely convenient, yes, so was Sansa’s, and Bran’s for that matter. Don’t get me started on Jon’s. But we chose them anyways, no one forced us. It would be wrong of us to force him to- well, it would be wrong to go through all that just so we had more Starks when you and I are young enough to have more.”

 

It was wrong still. Arya did not judge her brother, not truly, it was strange but not in any way that made her stop loving him. But oh, she knew it would be difficult for Gendry. He never had a name of his own, and by the time he was legitimized, the condition was that his sons would bear no claim to any land in the Stormlands. It was too dangerous to have a Baratheon son in the South laying claim to his rights. Instead, all they could claim was what was given to them by virtue of him marrying a Stark princess.

 

And Arya was treated as a princess, their sons were treated to the highest honors because they carried her blood of the Starks. None of this was indifferent to Gendry.

 

“Well then, I guess you can say Rickon is keeping the tradition of loving bastards.”

 

Oh, could it be possible to love him more? Her husband was more proud of being called ser, being reminded of all his heroic deeds in the war. Arya married no southern lord. She married a kind, a brave man.

 

“I guess he is.” She agreed, making him smile. _That is the sweetest duty of all_ , she thought, _making those smiles all mine_.

 

She took a firm hold of his hand and yanked him towards her. Of course, her yanking him didn’t really mean he moved at all. He just lazily let himself be pulled closer and closer to her. They were making a bit of a mess of the bedding but she didn’t give a damn. He was being rather gentle, with his soft touches, lingering and fleeting, making her impatient.

 

“I’m curious,” she began as she opened her legs a little to accommodate him between them. He groaned  as she moved, and she bit her lip as she smiled to find his body was starting to react. “Why…” she let him kiss her neck as her hand traveled down to where his laces were loose, ready for her to sneak her fingers and grasp him in her hand. Her grip was firm and she closed her eyes as he gasped against her neck, “where you…” Arya concentrated on his breath on her skin, on one of his hands gripping her own and the other traveling from the small of her back to her ass, pressing her against him, “so… ready to forgive me?”

 

Gendry breathed heavily as she pumped him faster, kissing her neck and then her breasts, surely making sure she was as ready for him as he seemed to be for her.  It worked perfectly, he knew expertly where to tickle her, where to press and where to fondle. It shouldn’t surprise her, he was a craftsman, and it was her husband’s duty to make her pleasure his craft.

 

Soon enough, she was distracted of her ministrations on him by the trail of his kisses. His hands, which were once all over had finally decided to raise the shirt to finally have her exposed. It was impossible for her to work on his cock as he bent lower and lower, his beard soon tickling under hear breasts, on her stomach, and her tights. Arya felt the heat of his lips above the hair of her sex as he dipped lower and lower, biting her lip to silence the moan threatening to leave her mouth. She knew he would not stop with kisses, not with how wet she was already, and she grasped the sheets in anticipation of his tongue.

 

She felt his finger on the nub of her nerves, making her tremble as her hips moved unwillingly. He kissed her right where the necessary pressure made it impossible for her not to beg-

 

But then he stopped, pushing himself higher on his elbows and moving all the way up to her face. Arya was not too dazed in pleasure to miss his cheeky grin.

 

“I figured, since Jon was your favorite this was a huge sacrifice for you, so it must be for an extremely important issue.” He had the gall to laid on one of his elbows, as if making casual conversation even though she could see he was hard as a rock. He was still punishing her but, oh, two could play that game.

 

“You’re wrong.” Arya faked a yawn and stirred, not missing the way his eyes followed her breasts as her back arched. “It was merely to avoid any future conflict,” she closed her eyes faking contentment as she continued, “it would be strange to have a second son in higher rank than a first born, better just make Jon the future king and Brandon the future lord of Hornwood.”

 

Besides, Arya would never admit that Jon was her favorite, if only because it would hurt Brandon. It’s not like Gendry was much better, he was always daydreaming out loud about how much he wanted a little girl to spoil silly.

 

“You highborns,” he rolled his eyes, though Arya catched him looking at her queerly as she rolled on her stomach, “you’re all so smart, aren’t you?”

 

“Well, isn’t that why you’ve forgiven me?” She said as her head turned to look at him, but her hand,  her hand was elsewhere, much lower. His eyes darkened as he realised what she was doing. “Cause you know if we dueled to settle this issue you would’ve lost.”

 

He leaned against her, for a moment just listening to the clear sound of her fingers rubbing her moist clit. Gendry’s mouth was slightly open and Arya wanted nothing more than to kiss him. “I think I can find other ways to settle this issue.”

 

“I think…” Arya closer her eyes and let a moan escape as she worked her fingers faster, closer and closer to the edge, “... I’ve won this one, I can settle it… on my own.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

He didn’t wait for her clever answer, Gendry pushed himself on top of her, pressuring his cock against her ass and grabbing her arms, forcibly pushing her hands away from her body. Arya smiled against the mattress as she felt him separate her legs with his knees,one of his hands bringing her hips up. The other took hold of his cock and guided it into her entrance.

 

He entered her smoothly and filled her in one swift motion. Arya grasped the sheets tightly as he pulled out and then in again. She enjoyed every bit of the roughness of his movements, the way he leaned forward to kiss her back, slick with sweat as it was. The pressure low in her stomach was also in her chest, and Arya let herself be loud as she wished against the fabric underneath her.

 

At some point her knees gave out, but it did not difference. She hardly felt his weight as he took her eagerly against the mattress, his large body covering her as he nibbled her ear. Every time he pushed in hard she would rub against the mattress, making her reach her peak easily. She arched and trembled as she reached her pleasure, Gendry carrying on for a few more thrust as he reached his own climax and he spilled inside her.

 

They stayed like that a moment, breathing heavily and just enjoying the closeness. The smell was heavy in the air, but she did not care. It had been two moons apart but it had felt like a lifetime.

 

Eventually, Gendry kissed her cheek soundly before rising to clean himself. Arya closed her eyes and turned to her back, grabbing the nearest pillows and arranging them in a pile with her feet before putting them up. She felt Gendry open the windows slightly and smiled content as her skin cooled off. Arya heard his steps coming back and then his chuckle.

 

“What? You keep saying you want a little girl, is the least I can do” she said as she opened her eyes and found him all dressed and handing her a wet towel. She cleaned her tights and her outer parts. Gendry was smiling, which stupidly enough, made her smile.

 

“A reward for my big sacrifices?” He asked as he leaned to kiss her on the lips. She grabbed his hair, keeping the kiss long and lazy. He rose and her hand fell to her belly.

 

“You did your duty as my husband, I do mine.” Arya teased. To be honest they weren’t that experienced and good at conventional duties of lord and lady, but at least they seemed to get the gist of how marriage should work. “Now go tend to the children while I sleep, I rode all night to get back home and I am tired.”

 

He let out a groan and walked towards the door as if his feet were made of iron. She couldn’t blame him, the boys were a handful during meals.

 

“I have a feeling you won’t be sleeping too much tonight.” He warned as he closed the door, but Arya did not mind. Riding was an activity she enjoyed, nevermind if it was her horse or her husband. Before she fell asleep, she congratulated herself on one achievement she had as a lady: she knew better now to keep her bawdy jokes to herself.

 

Nine moons later, her husband saw his reward for his dutiful behavior: a healthy little girl.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You pick whatever the name you prefer for the little girl! I couldn't decide on one so let me know your ideas! :)
> 
>  
> 
> I haven't written AxG in ages and honestly what I saw in the tag infuriated me so I decided to just write something to my liking.  
> Also, I read a fic once with gay!Rickon and this idea of the Stark girls having to have her sons be Starks to keep the family name played in my head FOREVER until I FINALLY got to use it, yay!


End file.
